Emer looked very tired.
“I’m ready for the bed,” she said. “I must look like I’ve been up all night.”
“You, like, have been up all night.”
“Well, there you go. Give me a hand here, girls. I’m a greyhound of a girl, but, God, the bed’s after growing since I climbed off it last night.”
They helped her climb onto her bed. She lay down, slowly, carefully, and she muttered.
“Good back, nice back, don’t give out and crack.”
Her head sank slowly into the pillow.
“We have liftoff.”
Mary sat beside her, up on the bed, and they chatted for a while, with Scarlett sitting on the other side.
“What big eyes you have, Granny.”
“All the better to eat you with, my dear.”
Scarlett wet her finger and dabbed the tip of her mother’s nose.
“Now, why in the name of God did you do that?”
“There was a little bit of ice cream there, all dried up!”
“Ice cream?” said Emer. “Oh, yes. Was that tonight?”
Mary pointed at the bright day on the other side of the window.
“Last night,” she said.
“We’re wild,” said Emer. “Aren’t we, now?”
As she spoke, her eyes closed, and she slept.
Mary and her mother waited, then they slowly slid off the bed. They leaned across and both kissed Emer’s forehead.
Then they left.
When they came back out to the car, the hospital was getting busy, and Tansey was gone.
ary woke up. She was in her own bed, at home. The light was off, but the curtains were open. So she could see her mother, and her father, and her brothers, standing beside the bed.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes.
“You slept all day,” said her mother.
“Did I?”
“Yes.”
Her mother sat beside her.
“Your granny’s gone,” she said.
“Gone where?” said Mary.
Then she understood. Her granny had died.
She hugged her mother, and her father. She even hugged her brothers. The room was full of sobs and snorts and sighs.
Mary hugged Scarlett again. She could feel Scarlett’s tears wetting the side of her face.
She let go of Scarlett and got out of bed. She went across to her window. Scarlett went with her and they both looked out, at the night and the swaying trees. The streetlights lit the leaves, and when a car went by, the headlights seemed to make them dance. They watched the leaves bob and the branches sway.
Scarlett opened the window, and now they could hear the rasping of the leaves. They could imagine they heard voices and laughter as people they couldn’t see moved among the leaves.
They cried and they smiled.
“What are you doing there?” Mary’s father asked.
“We’re listening to Granny and Tansey,” said Mary.
“Who’s Tansey?”
“We’ll tell you in a minute,” said Scarlett.
They stood there, holding each other, for a while longer, crying.
Then Mary thought of something brilliant. She let go of her mother and wiped her nose.
She spoke.
“I want a greyhound,” she said.
is the internationally bestselling and award-winning author of many adult novels and several books for children. In 1993 he won the Booker Prize for Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha. He was a schoolteacher before becoming a writer, and in 2009 he cofounded the creative writing center Fighting Words, providing inspirational workshops for students of all ages. He lives with his family in Dublin. You can read more about Roddy Doyle at www.roddydoyle.com.
Roddy Doyle, A Greyhound of a Girl
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